


Secrets and Blood

by theLiterator



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian learns that freezing giant bears is not necessarily the best way to go about things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> By request for a nonny. Hope it's not too too angsty, nonny!

"Dorian!" the Iron Bull shouted a warning and Dorian would have snapped back 'I know!' but he was too busy ducking and trying to escape the giant bear to spare that much effort.

"Too close, too close, too close," he chanted under his breath, and then he tripped. The bear was right on top of him, and he rolled, trying to deflect a mass of claws and momentum with his staff, and abruptly, Vivienne and her cool voice floated at the forefront of his mind.

He froze the bear. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, because even though he'd asked Vivienne about that particular spell four times in the past week, he'd not yet successfully cast it. He smirked and started to stand, and then Cassandra collided with the frozen creature, shield first and shouting, and it...

Exploded. Ice and blood and bits of meat rushed outward in a torrential rush, and he had a second to register the cold, a second to register the hot, and then he was gagging and shouting and trying to escape the _smell_.

He could taste it where it had run into his mouth, and he could feel it seeping into his robes and warming or cooling on his face, and he shouted again, reeling back into strong hands which held him down, and--

 _"You will marry her, Dorian,"_ and the static ozone scent of magic on the air corrupted by that which his father had, until now, eschewed.

Those strong hands hovered now, barely touching him, and he was being herded toward--

A wet rag swiping over his face, icy and clean with water from a stream, and, "Iron Bull?" he asked.

"Shh, you're here with us, you're safe," the Iron Bull was saying, and Dorian tried to nod, except something _awful_ slid from his hair and down his neck and he sobbed--

The Iron Bull's hands were fussing with his buckles, which was a surprisingly normal thing for him to do, especially given that they were still outside and everyone was--

Staring.

He flinched bodily and reached to do the buckles himself, because the intent of getting out of his blood-soaked clothing may have been sound, but he was not some stupid child who couldn't undress himself.

His fingers slipped in the gore, and his bile rose, but he didn't allow himself to go back _there_ again.

His clothing slipped off, and the sun was warm and good on his skin, and the Iron Bull urged him forward a step, two, and then his toes were cold with stream water and he toppled forward to scrub the blood off his skin.

The Iron Bull controlled his descent and Dorian opened his eyes for the first time in several minutes to find the Iron Bull kneeling in the stream with him, rinsing a rag until it was no longer bloody.

"Here," the Iron Bull said, catching his gaze. "Let's get you cleaned up." Dorian tried to scoop up water to splash over his skin, to wash away the blood, but he was shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the chill of the water. The Iron Bull didn't comment, just guided him down further, until he was lying on his back in the stream, water rushing past him, the Iron Bull combing the blood and flesh from his hair and wiping his skin clean with the rag.

"You'll catch cold," the Iron Bull said when Dorian tried to resist being tugged back out of the stream. "And I won't be bringing you soup and tea until you're better if you bring it on yourself."

Dorian shivered and smirked at the lie.

The others were nowhere to be seen, and the Iron Bull caught him looking. "Didn't figure you'd want them watching, so I gave them something to do."

Dorian nodded, and shivered again. 

"Let's get you dressed." 

Dorian thought of the blood on his robes and shook his head. "I'd really rather not," he said, lilting his voice like he was laughing.

"I've got clean stuff for you in my pack," the Iron Bull said. "Here, I'll just--"

Dorian took the offered clothes and dressed quickly, only feeling like himself again when the last of the buckles was fastened. The Iron Bull leered at him and he posed a little, so that the Iron Bull shook his head and laughed before tugging him in for a claiming kiss.

"Where did you even get these?" Dorian asked. "These are _mine_. How--"

"You left them in my quarters; I was going to give them back."

"They're _clean_ ," he said, regretting almost as soon as he said it how accusing his tone was.

"Well I can't give you back _dirty_ things, can I? Or is that a Vint custom I never heard about?"

"No, it's only-- when _were_ you planning on returning them?"

"When you needed them," the Iron Bull replied, and Dorian frowned.

"What happened there was not--"

"You'll tell me when you're ready, Dorian," the Iron Bull said easily, clapping him on the shoulder and then, with a considered gentleness that Dorian was growing to suspect was more in his character than the bloody-mindedness he pretended to, he wrapped his hand around Dorian's waist. "Let's go find the others and let them know you're still as pretty as ever, a little gore not-withstanding."

Dorian grumbled, but he also leaned in at the touch, and the small circles the Iron Bull was rubbing with his thumb did much to sooth his remaining nerves.


End file.
